A little prose and musings…will probably add to this in time
As a child I was very idealistic. It sound pretentious but I generally had a sense of a “calling”. I imagine myself holding hands with activists in the desert (where wars happen, obviously) to stand in the way of battling troops, or feeding water to a poor malnourished child in the slums. Princess Diana was my role model and I felt sure I was going to go out and do Good Things. Growing up Jewish I think you assimilate your own sense of atrocity. We were taught stories of slavery and learnt the turbulent history of the state of Israel. Everyone knew someone who had been in the death camps. We learnt and practiced “Tzedakah” (charity) and were taught that the greatest thing we could do for another was to help them to reach independence and self-sufficiency.
My first awareness of current politics as a child in the 90s. I remember the anticipation and excitement around “New Labour”. There was a feeling of change. My mother told me that the Tories supported people who had money, and this was a party who represented people like us. I remember seeing the crowds on the news cheering after the 1997 Labour victory.
But it wasn’t entirely the promise we’d hoped for. I remember watching the news show the troops going into Afghanistan in 2001 and I actually cried. I thought this was the stuff of history books, not something that actually involved my modern country. An idealistic child grew into an idealistic teenager. My simplistic views were left-leaning: everyone should get along and be treated equally, war is bad and we should look after the planet. I felt strongly about the environment and became a vegetarian (I missed chicken burgers, but felt it was the Right Thing). At school I joined Amnesty and spent lunch breaks hearing stories of torture that left me feeling awful inside. I became drawn to mental health and set my sights on becoming a psychologist, and became involved in politics through the school.
Our local MP was the Liberal Democrat Vince Cable and remember him as a very visible member of the community. He visited my school and came round door-knocking and chatted with my mother. He was very well loved locally and gave off a sense of really caring about the local people. The issues I felt strongly about (increasing access and reducing stigma in mental health, supporting the NHS, sex and relationships education, reducing involvement in foreign conflict, LGBT rights and gender equality, and evidence-based drugs policy) felt more closely aligned with Lib Dem politics than any other party. At university I became a party member and I was later involved in some local campaigning.
Then came the 2010 election. The party I voted for went into power! I was thrilled, my vote was actually represented. Then things began to sour. Prior to the election I hadn’t been aware of how unrealistic the Lib Dem tuition fee promise had been, and the backlash from the people was immense. People protested and were largely ignored. When it came to the Alternative Vote referendum the public seemed to vote to punish, destroying our highly anticipated opportunity to have a fairer voting system. Then the cuts began. At this point I had begun working in the NHS. I had no experience of working in healthcare pre-austerity, but older staff had plenty of stories of how it used to be. Over 6 years of work in mental and physical health, across the NHS and charity sector I never worked in a team that wasn’t being “restructured”. We were fined for not reaching unrealistic targets that did not represent the work we did (as though with less money we would be more productive). Our criteria for accepting referrals grew increasingly stringent, as we turned away people whose suffering didn’t quite meet threshold. I let my Lib Dem membership lapse and kept my head down when people discussed Nick Clegg and his treacherous party.